


Life After Death

by Sandnose



Series: Drown in the Ashes AU [2]
Category: DCU (Comics), Heroes in Crisis (DCU Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics)
Genre: A Fresh Start, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drug Addiction, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd just wants to be a supportive boyfriend, M/M, Past Character Death, Reality Altering Shenanigans, Rehab, Roy Harper is trying his best, Roy goes by Will Bowhunter, Trauma, Traumatic Memory Loss, but neither Will Harper nor Bowhunter Security will be making an appearence, tags will be added as we go along
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-04
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:00:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21668620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandnose/pseuds/Sandnose
Summary: Roy Harper was killed in the massacre at Sanctuary over half a year ago. Jason Todd could do nothing but try to resume life without his partner in (stopping) crime. While the fantasy of Roy being brought back to life entertained him, Jason left it at that: a fantasy....Until one day he finds a man bearing a striking resemblance to his dearly departed walking the streets of a small town in Washington state.---This is Part 1 for a series of fics all taking place in my Drown in the Ashes AU, which is a fix-it fic AU following the events of Heroes in Crisis.
Relationships: Roy Harper/Jason Todd
Series: Drown in the Ashes AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1555258
Comments: 9
Kudos: 52





	1. Routine Pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part in my series that sets out to reimagine how things might have gone if Roy had survived the events of Heroes in Crisis. I am doing this for my own sadistic pleasure and with the hope that you all will be entertained by my ramblings as well. I am making no profit off of any of this and do not own the characters mentioned here (I'll leave their canon side to DC).

He stretched his sore limbs as his body regained consciousness. His feet lazily kicked out at an invisible target, while his hands took a white-knuckled grip on the headboard. He slowly rotated his head, relishing in the satisfying series of pops his neck gave in response. Then he cracked his eyes open the tiniest bit and the tranquil spell was broken.

All at once the tension in his body went slack when his eyes came to focus on the other side of the bed, and the lack of a body within it. One of his arms extended to touch the spot, in the hope that there may yet be a bit of warmth left behind. 

But, of course, there was none. There had not been warmth there in going on seven months now.

“I’m getting real tired of this shit.” Jason grumbled to himself as he curled in on his side to face the empty side of the bed.

Roy’s side of the bed.

He hates the fact that the moment that Bruce had told him what had happened still plays on repeat in his mind almost every day since he was told. A vivid memory interrupting his life with its broken record message.

He hates the fact that he starts his days like this more often than not; reaching out seeking the comfort and warmth of his partner, only to find cold empty sheets and a pillow that is slowly gathering dust. On his worst days, Jason would wake up and think that Roy had just gotten up earlier than him and was working in his workshop, and he would wait in bed for his love to come back and join him – sometimes for hours…

But then his brain would catch up with reality and its cruelty would help to rouse Jason into starting his day.

* * *

Since losing Roy, Jason had decided to ride solo – indefinitely. Occasionally he would team up with his siblings, and he even had done a handful of missions with Bruce. He avoided all other heroes otherwise; they all _knew_ about what had transpired at Sanctuary, but the last thing Jason wanted was pity from people who just did not understand what they were even pitying.

Kori would come and visit from time to time, but she never stayed for too long. She knew that while she brought up fond memories for Jason, almost all of them involved Roy too, so the memories would always start to grow darker for him over time. Jason wished his mind would not betray him like that. He wished he had the strength to ask Kori to stay.

Roy’s passing also brought some old and unfamiliar faces out of the woodwork. He had received visits and various messages from Roy’s old partners in his Titans days, which Jason accepted politely but, equally as politely, did not respond to. Donna had invited Jason to visit Roy’s grave with her on a few occasions, but quickly got the message when Jason stopped acknowledging them altogether. He did not do it to be rude or cause anyone any more grief, but these were all people who meant something to Roy, not him, and he would much rather keep things that way; he loves Roy, of course, but one should really try not to speak ill of the dead, and Jason knows he would just that if he was left to freely reminisce on “the good ol’ days”.

Then there was Oliver. Now he Jason _actively_ ignored. Hell, he was the reason Jason was _glad_ he had not been present at the funeral, and why he suspected Bruce had waited to tell him the news until after the ceremony. Oliver called, wrote, sent mementos, and even tried coming by some of Roy’s old safehouses. Jason watched it all go down with a sour taste on his tongue, yet he did not say a word to the other man. He would not give him the satisfaction. Oliver had not appreciated Roy enough in his life, so why should he be given a second chance in his death?

Jason tried to dwell on the matters of morality when it came to life and death – and, in his case, post-death. His personal experiences were still something he could not quite process, so now that his partner was gone, he just—

Jason shook his head slowly to dislodge the pitiful plan that was trying to form in his head. It always started to come to mind whenever he thought about his own death and resurrection for too long. But he knew that no matter how badly he may want to dig up Roy, dump him the nearest Lazarus Pit, and hope for the best, he could never do that to him. Roy had already had enough problems to deal with in his regular life, so Jason could not bring himself to burden him further with the absolute baggage that came with the afterlife.

When the coffee maker finished brewing, Jason poured some into his mug – a novelty mug that Roy had gotten him that said: “naked as a jaybird”, of course Roy had found it hilarious whereas Jason had heavily rolled his eyes and let out a single chuckle. He filled the rest of his drink to the brim with a bottle of whiskey; Jason had helped himself to Roy’s “private collection” after he had learned what had happened to his partner, figuring it was what Roy would have wanted after all.

After mixing in a rather generous amount of alcohol, Jason raised his glass and mumbled out a toast, mainly to himself – and Roy, of course – before taking a long, deep swig from it. That was the drink for Roy, then the rest went to Jason to try and ease his nerves going into the day’s activities.

He had started almost every day like this since Roy’s death. Jason had found that a solid routine had helped to settle him, especially when his old routine had involved his partner quite a bit.

While all of this helped to ease his thoughts, it was always a temporary fix. Jason had yet to start healing, or even let himself properly grieve. But all of that really did not bother Jason; the Lazarus Pit had always healed anything that had happened to him since his own death, so why would it not help heal him now?

It was just taking longer than he thought. That was all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mug in question is this one, right here --> ["naked as a jaybird" Mug](https://www.cafepress.com/mf/113613335/naked-as-a-jaybird_mugs?productId=467045749)


	2. Routine Pt. 2

He slowly inched his eyes open, squinting against the harsh sunlight that cut through the blinds. His calloused hands came up to rub at his face; a poor attempt to wake it up with the rest of him.

_Great_ , he thought to himself as he let his fingertips focus on massaging his temples, _get to start the day off with a headache_.

He knew he had gotten it from oversleeping, so turning back over was not going to solve his dilemma. Instead, he swung his feet over the bed, grabbed his sunglasses off of the nightstand and shuffled his way into the kitchen.

He set the water in his coffeemaker to boil and turned to the cabinets above the machine. Inside the first were several bright orange pill bottles of various sizes. He retrieved one labeled ‘HEADACHE MEDICINE’ and unscrewed the cap. Instead of pills, he poured a hardy amount of peppermint tea leaves into a tea ball. 

Next, he opened the cabinet beside the first, which housed a couple neatly stacked mugs. He reached for one that was well-worn and said: “Boys will be Toys”. He dumped in a few spoonfuls of sugar before setting the tea ball in the mug. When the coffee maker finished boiling, he poured in the water, filling it to the brim.

As the tea began to steep, he leaned over the mug and inhaled the sharp scent of the herbs and relished in the relief it was already bringing his pulsating head. While he was waiting, he decided to pop two pieces of toast into the toaster, and returned to his bedroom after his breakfast was well underway.

* * *

Now that he was waking up a bit more, he could stand to have the lights on, but the sight that met him almost made him want to turn them back off. It looked like a tornado had ripped through his bedroom – and he almost wished that one had.

He must have had a _late_ night last night, which was something no one ever enjoyed.

So far it looked like he had not done too much damage besides pulling up all of the blankets from his bed, throwing things out of his closet and dressers, and leaving shoes and clothes scattered all over the place.

This was the result of the darkest depths of his mind taking the lead and commanding his body to do its bidding. This was by far not nearly as bad as it could have been – and as it _has_ been before – but it still caused him inconvenience. This other part of his mind came out to play whenever his past was drug up, but he cannot even remember what might have triggered things this time.

He deduced that he must have been searching for something, on account of almost every part of the room having been turned over – quite literally in some spots. But if he had found what he had been looking for was really anybody’s guess; his past mind could be a mysterious place, and he found it best to just shut it out and put it away.

He took off the sunglasses and went to set them back on the nightstand when something caught his eye. He usually kept the place beside his bed organized with only the essentials: his cellphone, charger, sunglasses, water bottle, hat, and headphones. But there was a new addition, which he had a sinking feeling was the result of last night’s seeking.

He found himself hesitating as he reached out to the downturned photograph. He did not know if he was more worried about what the photo might be of or what might happen to him when he saw its contents; if this little thing was enough to send his past mind into this much of a frenzy last night, then there was probably a good chance that it would bring that side of himself back up right now.

His fingertips pressed against the object’s cool, smooth surface as he made one last contemplation before deciding whether or not he would flip it over. In the end, curiosity got the better of him and he slid the photo off of the nightstand so that he could cup it in his hand.

It was a small polaroid photo that held two people within its focus. The angle was a little off showing that the photographer likely had no idea what they were doing. In the blank space at the bottom of the film was one word: “Outlaws” along with a heart being pierced by an arrow.

The word felt oddly familiar, but he could not really understand it within the context of the photograph. It was just two men dressed in some _questionably fashionable_ attire, one with his arm slung across the other’s shoulders and one with his arm wrapped around the other’s waist. 

He liked the hat of the guy in red and the toothy grin he gave the camera made his own lips quirk up just looking at it, but the other guy gave him feelings he could not quite pin down. His chest felt tight and his teeth clenched, making his headache threaten to come back. His hands started to shake so bad he could not hold the picture still, and his eyes would not focus on the image as his vision blurred with unshed tears.

Yet all he truly felt was confusion.

Why was he feeling like this?

Who is this guy?

His past mind started reaching out to him, its murky fingers beginning to seep into the edges of his vision. Whispered words started flowing to his ears, but he could not pick anything out no matter how much he tried to focus on something – anything.

But then a voice rose above the others: his own. It was saying something short and quick. As the past began to take over his conscious mind the words moved to escape from his lips.

“J—Ja…”

He was launched out of the developing trance when his ringtone blasted loudly from in front of him. He dropped the photo in his surprise, and it joined the rest of the chaos on the floor, quickly forgotten.

“H-Hello?” he said into the phone after he fumbled to answer the call.

“Well, glad to see that you finally decided to wake up.” a woman’s voice lightly chastised over the line.

“Got caught up…cleaning.” he chuckled out the blatantly lame excuse. “You know how it is.”

“I really don’t, since I took the advice you ignored and hired a cleaning service.” She sighed and he assumed there was a serious eye-roll accompanying it. “Anyway, you really should come in soon. We’ve got our own cleaning job going on over here, and we could really use you.”

“Alright, I’ll be over in 30.”

“Make it 20, or you’re fired.” she barked.

“Bold words to say to your _boss_.” he countered as he started digging through a nearby pile of clothes for something to wear.

“Heh, whatever Hot Shot.” she genuinely laughed. “I’ll see you soon, Will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before there is any confusion, a few things (in case my hinting and foreshadowing do not make themselves clear):  
> -Roy is the subject in this chapter  
> -He goes by the name Will Bowhunter, and that will be explained more later  
> -There is no Young Justice crossover happening here, I'm just making a small nod to the multiple Roy's  
> -I am not trying to portray Dissociative/Multiple Personality Disorder or anything similar. His "past mind" is just the side of himself from his old life  
> -Roy is suffering from Traumatic Memory Loss (I mean, he _died_ , I'd call that traumatic), this will be explained more later and throughout the story
> 
> If there needs to be any more explanation, please feel free to ask me. Though there will be some things I would rather not reveal for the sake of the story!
> 
> As with the last chapter, the mug in question is this one, right here --> ["Boys will be Toys" Mug](https://www.etsy.com/listing/621061374/boys-will-be-toys-mug-vintage-80s-coffee)  
> Come visit me over at my Tumblr: [ya-boy-roy-toy](https://ya-boy-roy-toy.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see more of my Roy Harper/Jayroy Headcanons, fanworks, send an ask, or just hang out, please come visit me over on Tumblr [@ya-boy-roy-toy](https://ya-boy-roy-toy.tumblr.com/) or come join my Discord [JayRoy Creatives](https://discord.gg/sdPYcGVmbm)


End file.
